


Parry and Riposte

by Jade_Waters



Category: Transformers: Beast Wars
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Plug & Play, Swords
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 23:33:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6304552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jade_Waters/pseuds/Jade_Waters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dinobot's been avoiding Rattrap. Rattrap goes to find out why.</p>
<p>Set shortly after "Call of the Wild" in Season 1.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parry and Riposte

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on some longer fic, but it's slow going. In the meantime, please enjoy this bit of fluff!

  
Monitor duty sucked.  Really.  Rattrap was aware of the fact that he complained a lot, but monitor duty just had no redeeming qualities at all.  Tedious, monotonous, and insipid only began to describe it.  The worst part was, the moment you tried to distract yourself, something went horribly wrong and it was all your fault.  Optimus might be willing to jump in front of a blaster shot, but Rattrap had never seen him take a shift with the monitors.    
  
The one tiny shimmer of a silver lining was that Rattrap got real familiar with his crew mates’ habits.  He knew when they slept, ate, socialized, came, went, and worked.  He hadn’t consciously tried to learn, but the patterns were there, and he got stuck on monitor duty a _lot_.  So he couldn’t help but notice when Dinobot went to the practice room halfway through Rattrap’s shift, and was still there swinging his sword when the shift ended four megacycles later.  The ex-Pred liked to practice, yeah, but this? Something was up.  
  
Cheetor bounced onto the bridge like monitor duty was the highlight of his life, “How’s it hangin’, Rattrap?  Any Preds bot enough to show their ugly faces?”  
  
“All’s quiet on the planetary front, kiddo.  Camera 14 in the practice room’s glitching a bit on me, though,” Rattrap lied, “I’m gonna go check it out.  If it goes offline in a few minutes don’t worry about it - I’ll be in there trying to fix it.”  
  
“Gotcha.  See ya later!”  Cheetor said with far too much enthusiasm.    
  
*  
  
Rattrap leaned against the practice room’s door frame for several cycles, but Dinobot either didn’t notice or didn’t care.  Rattrap was betting on the former.  Rolling his optics, he hopped up to the camera and unplugged the power cord.  The little red light dimmed into nothing, and Rattrap grinned.  He suspected Dinobot would appreciate a little privacy for this conversation.  If they could actually _get_ to a conversation, anyway.  If not, well, Dinobot would appreciate the lack of witnesses to Rattrap’s murder.  
  
When Rattrap hopped back down, Dinobot snarled, “What do you want, rat?”  
  
“Nice of you to notice me, dinobutt.”  
  
“Hn. Difficult not to notice your stench.” He swung hard at his target.  The poor dummy was covered in gashes.    
  
“Funny, but I’m pretty sure you missed me coming in.”    
  
Dinobot didn’t answer.  He turned away from the dummy target and went back to the forms he’d been doing about a megacycle ago.  Rattrap used the moment of silence to observe.  Dinobot’s frame was shaking, his ventilation system whirred loudly.  He was clearly exhausted.  Rattrap decided on the direct approach.  
  
“You’ve been here over four megacycles.”  
  
“Someone on this ship should be ready for a Predacon attack.”  Dinobot didn’t even look at him as he said it.  
  
“Would you be ready if they attacked us right now?  You look like a gentle breeze might blow you down, bolts-for-brains,” Rattrap gestured at Dinobot’s near incapacitation, but apparently he was being ignored again.  _Fine,_ Rattrap thought, _we’ll do it your way_.  He pulled a practice sword down from the wall, twirled it in his hand for a moment, trying to get used to the weight.  It wasn’t his sort of weapon, not even a little bit, but it would do for the moment.  When Dinobot turned back his direction, bringing his sword down in a clean strike, Rattrap stepped in, and raised his sword to parry.    
  
As their swords clashed together, Dinobot growled at him, but turned away.  Rattrap moved fast, though, and blocked a second strike.  “Be _gone_ , pestilence,” Dinobot spit out, but Rattrap only pushed him back.  
  
“Make me, lizard.”  
  
Now he had Dinobot’s attention.  With a roar, the warrior brought his sword down hard, and Rattrap strained beneath his parry.  He side stepped, let Dinobot move past only to be quickly rounded on.  Dinobot might be worn out, but he was still chasing Rattrap around the room as the spy blocked, ducked, and parried as fast as he could.  After only a few cycles, Dinobot neatly disarmed Rattrap, flinging his weapon across the room.  Surprised and still moving backward, the Maximal tripped and landed hard on his back.  Dinobot followed him down, free hand pressing against his chassis, the sword point between his optics.   
  
Everything stopped.  
  
Their optics were locked, they were both breathing hard.    
  
Eventually, Rattrap whispered, “Why don’t you kill me?”  He wasn’t sure if it was curiosity or a challenge.  
  
Dinobot just shook his head slightly, but didn’t move, and didn’t speak.  
  
“You could.  You could have killed me a dozen times over.  If you hate me so much, why don’t you do it?”  His spark ached, but he didn’t quite want to think about why.  
  
Dinobot looked away for a moment.  Quietly, he said, “I tried to eat you.”  
  
“What?” Rattrap asked, baffled.  
  
“When we were trapped in beast mode,” he clarified.  “I tried to eat you. I wanted to eat you.  I would have, if I’d caught you.”  
  
“But you didn’t.”  
  
“I would have.”  
  
“...And your point is?”  
  
“I failed to obey your command when Optimus was in the alien pod.  I was utterly convinced you had betrayed us when you were sent to the _Darksyde_ as a spy.  It was equally my fault when we set off Sentinel, but you took all the risk of shutting her down.  I prevented your return to Cybertron. Possibly twice.  I... owe you a great deal.”  
  
Rattrap looked quizzically up at Dinobot, “You don’t owe me anything. Really.”  
  
Dinobot shook his head, refusing to accept Rattrap’s dismissal. “I am indeed in your debt, vermin,” he said, voice low.    
  
The warrior lowered his sword and went to pull back, but Rattrap grabbed his arm, forcing him to stay close.  “Is that the only reason you haven’t killed me? Guilt?”  He wasn’t sure why he asked, why he wasn’t just glad Dinobot wasn’t going to murder him. But he felt in his gut there was more going on here, more he needed to know.  
  
“It’s not _guilt_ , it’s _honor_ , rodent,” Dinobot snarled, indignant at the implication his actions were based on a fluffy Maximal emotion. But Rattrap just smiled at him and waited.  Dinobot sighed, “No. That’s not the only reason.”  
  
There was an odd hint of affection in the ex-Pred’s tone, something Rattrap would’ve thought he’d imagined if he didn’t spend 90% of his time on this dust ball becoming an expert in Dino-speak.  It made Rattrap’s smile soften as he felt his own affection for the stupid bucket of bolts thrum through his systems. He slid his hand down Dinobot’s arm to lay over the hand still pressed over his spark.    
  
Rather than pull his hand away, Dinobot elaborated on his answer, “I haven’t hated you since shortly after joining the Maximals. You quickly proved you were not to be underestimated, despite your many attempts to dissemble. I find myself constantly reevaluating my perception of you, vermin. Even now.”  
  
In something like shock, Rattrap’s focus had narrowed to just Dinobot, leaning over him. He could feel his systems stuttering. Trying not to let himself lie there and stare, he asked, “What do you think of me now?”  
  
“I think you’re a terrible swordsman,” he deadpanned. At Rattrap’s indignant exclamation, he laughed.  “But you have many other talents to make up for it. I think you’re the only Maximal here who accepts me as a Predacon, who holds me to my own version of honor, instead of being surprised each time I fail to be Maximal. And now?” Dinobot sheathed his sword before leaning in close, a handful of centimeters between them. Rattrap inhaled sharply, optics wide. “Now I think you’re marvelous.”  
  
Dinobot kissed him. Rattrap’s optics shuttered and he thought it was good he was already flat on his back because his gyros were spinning all out of whack. This was a long way from being murdered.  When Dinobot pulled back, Rattrap breathed, “Marvelous, huh?”  
  
“Indeed. And judging by your expression, your opinion of me is not dissimilar.”  
  
Rattrap smirked, “Don’t get too cocky now, Chopper face.”  
  
“Primus, but I could bicker with you until the end of days and never grow weary of it.” They kissed again, deeper this time. Soon, they were running their hands over each other. Dinobot’s through soft fur, Rattrap’s over scales and bone.    
  
Dinobot’s skinny fingers worked their way under Rattrap’s armor, plucking at wires and running along circuits. Rattrap knew a trick or two himself, and had managed to convince one of Dinobot’s front panels to open, giving him easy access to some particularly sensitive wiring. The two bots were running hot, fans straining, their breath panting against each other. “Please,” Rattrap huffed, “Please tell me we’re gonna interface right here, right now.”  
  
Dinobot grinned against him as he kissed and bit down Rattrap’s jaw and neck. “Aye, Maximal, it’d take an entire battle fleet to part me from you now.” They jacked into one another quickly, gasping together as the exchange began.    
  
Rattrap always found interface fascinating - just tiny fragments of useless data bombarding his systems, yet, “Ooooh,” he moaned as those random bits washed over him in a wave of pleasure. A charge built between them, each touch buzzing with electricity. Above him, Dinobot, already exhausted, shuddered and vented as his overtaxed systems worked to cope with this new barrage. The warrior growled and bit down on Rattrap’s shoulder. Rattrap arched into him, “Yes, yes, like that, _yes_.”  His voice glitched, full of static, just as his overload hit.  His optics offlined, and for a moment he was blissfully unaware of the world. His and Dinobot’s consciousnesses swirled together like dancers, then parted.  
  
Systems slowly rebooted, bringing Rattrap back to consciousness. Dinobot had collapsed on top of him.  Getting his arms and legs under the big oaf, the Maximal shoved hard. With a big clank, Dinobot landed on his side next to Rattrap, coming slowly back online himself.  When his optics flickered back to life, Rattrap asked, “We good now?”  
  
Dinobot chuckled softly, “Yes, vermin.  We’re good.”

*End*


End file.
